


definitely later

by MonaWrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Civil War (Marvel), M/M, spoilers for civil war!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6693787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonaWrites/pseuds/MonaWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve lets his head fall back. “<i>Shit</i>, Buck.”</p>
<p>“So damn stupid,” Bucky mumbles against his neck. “We’re so stupid, always so late—”</p>
            </blockquote>





	definitely later

**Author's Note:**

> IT CONTAINS CIVIL WAR SPOILERS!

Bucky stands there, watching Steve shutting the elevator cage closed—Steve can feel the stare on him, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he settles in front of Bucky after pressing the only button available: a Russian character that Steve doesn’t know, and honestly, he’s glad he doesn’t. A hue slightly green washes over them, the two men facing each other again, unsure of the future ahead of them.

 

Steve gulps down the words he wants to say and asks instead, “You okay?”

 

With a nod, Bucky leans against the metallic wall. “Yeah. You? You look like you’re about to throw up.” He smiles at Steve, teasingly, but the humor doesn’t reach his eyes: they’re scared, Steve can tell; scared _and_ cautious at the same time.

 

“I’m sure you don’t want me to do that again,” Steve teases back. “Do you, Buck?”

 

They both chuckle, and even though it’s great to have this again, Steve can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. Of course, they had their time to share memories, to remember Buck’s dames, to reminisce their time together with the Howling Commandos (“Did you know that Dum Dum wrote a book?” “Yes, Buck, you’re in there, too”); they spent most of the flight talking nonsense, and Steve felt inebriated with joy listening to Buck’s voice, Buck’s rusted laughter, Buck’s—

 

Buck, who’s staring at him again, blue eyes loaded with something Steve doesn’t recognize, and _that_ makes Steve uneasy. _I’ve known this man my whole life and I can’t pinpoint what is this, what is he thinking?_ He licks his lips, sees how Bucky’s gaze drops at his mouth. Steve feels his heart jump in his chest.

 

“You should know,” Bucky starts, but stops himself midsentence. His Adam’s apple bounces once, twice, before Bucky reaches out and presses the elevator’s solitary button. The lift goes still with a halt “Steve, what we’re facing here—”

 

“I know, Buck. I know.”

 

Bucky shakes his head. “No, punk, you don’t. We’re talking about enhanced soldiers, assassins better trained than me, with a better juice. They’re more vicious, more cold-blooded—one of them almost _ripped my arm_ off.”

 

Steve eyes him carefully. The clock is ticking, and the little time they have in their hands cannot be wasted; Bucky knows this, Steve is certain of it, so why is he telling him stuff Steve is already aware of?

 

“So you’ve said,” Steve says. “Five Winter Soldiers and a crazy person against you and me. Buck, we _got_ this.”

 

Bucky shakes his head. “You don’t get it.”

 

There’s an elongated silence in which Bucky stares at his soul and probably scans his whole brain, as well. Steve isn’t afraid of him, so he stares back, until Bucky speaks with a tiny voice, suddenly unable to meet his eye. “We probably won’t make it, Stevie.”

 

Steve’s mouth tightens. “I know that.”

 

He watches Bucky take a deep breath, a shuddering breath that seems to go through his whole body. He shivers, and Steve only wants to—

 

Bucky takes a step forward. “The last adventures of Barnes and Rogers, seventy years later.”

 

Steve smiles. “Is that the title of our autobiography?”

 

“It has a nice ring to it, right?” Bucky chuckles, looking so small. “You and me, together—like we used to.”

 

This time, Steve can’t smile. He just says, “Always, Buck,” and holds his breath.

 

Bucky tucks a stray of hair behind his ear before taking another step into Steve’s personal bubble. “Since this is practically a suicide mission,” Bucky says in a low whisper, “I’d like to ask you—is there something, _anything_ else, I should know about?”

 

Steve licks his lips again. “About…?”

 

“Us.”

 

And just like that, Steve’s heart stops in his chest. “ _Oh_ , Buck,” he whines, trying to take a step back—he can’t breathe, he’s suffocating—but Bucky’s flesh fingers tightens around a handful of his uniform.

 

 “Tell me.”

 

 Defeated, Steve takes off his helmet, drops it on the floor; there’s a loud clang when his shield hits the hard metal, and Bucky’s eyes shine under the greenish light. Steve says, “I don’t know if you—Buck, you won’t like it.”

 

Bucky shrugs, says “Try me,” and that’s all Steve needs to place a hand on Bucky’s neck and just pull him against him.

 

Their mouths join softly, dry inexperienced lips dancing together, Bucky’s scruff scratching Steve’s chin delightfully—Steve didn’t know it could feel like this, so good but also so terrifyingly. He didn’t know Buck felt the same way Steve did, but the soft moans and whimpers he’s letting out give Steve confidence enough to part his lips with his tongue, and Buck _mewls_. There are strong hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh, and it hurts like hell but he doesn’t care: Bucky’s returning the kiss just as fervently, just as excited, and then—

 

Then they’re against the metal wall with a loud bang, Steve’s back hitting the cold surface, Bucky pushing himself into Steve as if he wanted to get into his skin. Steve gasps when Bucky tugs at his hair, moans when Bucky thrusts his tongue even deeper, groans when Bucky rolls his hips and he can feel just how hard he is. They shouldn’t be doing this. They have a mission, there are five assassins just a few floors below them, but then Bucky nips at his lower lip, at his jaw, at his neck, and Steve fucking _surrenders_.

 

Steve lets his head fall back. “ _Shit_ , Buck.”

 

“So damn stupid,” Bucky mumbles against his neck. “We’re so stupid, always so late—”

 

Steve takes Bucky’s head with both hands and flips them over, switching places, Bucky’s body pressed against the wall and Steve’s looming figure. Bucky surges forward, capturing his lips again. “Stevie, Stevie, _please_ ,” he pleads, trying to get some friction, “I want to—”

 

With some difficulty, Steve breaks the kiss, but their lips are still touching, wet, raw and red. “I know, _God_ , Buck, I know,” he says, “but now we gotta—”

 

Bucky takes a deep breath, but his eyes stay closed. “Right… we hafta— _Zemo_.”

 

“And five assassins,” Steve groans, placing soft pecks all over Bucky’s face. “We should, you know…”

 

“Yes,” he agrees, “but can we— _later_?”

 

Steve lets out a soft laugh, kissing Bucky one last time before taking a step back. “Definitely.”

 

Bucky seems pleased with Steve’s promise and he rearranges his rifle. His face sets on a more serious expression, going into hunting mode. “I’ll take your word on that, Rogers,” he says before pushing the elevator’s button. “I got your six.”

 

Steve picks up his shield. “And I got you, Buck. ‘Til the end of the line.”


End file.
